Die Wilde Jagd - The Wild Hunt
by FreakinGodzilla
Summary: The Wild Hunt is out to get Sarah. Will she succeed in obtaining her freedom? Or will she be taken and never heard from again? One-shot.


**Die Wilde Jagd**

 **The picture on this story is called**

' **Die Wilde Jagd' by Franz Stuck or **_**translated as**_

' **The Wild Hunt'**

 ***Warning: Totally taking Jareth down a peg or two***

 **Summary:**

 _ **The Wild Hunt is out to get Sarah. Will she succeed in obtaining her freedom?**_

 _ **Or will she be taken and never heard from again?**_

* * *

Tall towering trees loomed over her. Their leaves obscured the vision of the full bright moon, leaving the forest dark with swaying shadows.

A pebble had lodged itself between her sock and her shoe. The sharp edges of it digging into her heel. Her calves _burned_. Each movement defied the aching and protesting of her body.

The forest was silent except for the noise of shaky ragged breathing and her throat and lungs felt seared. It was only her strong will that kept her going.

She persisted on. Her green almond shaped eyes traced over the obstacles in front of her. Fallen logs. Branches. Large rocks. Sticks that would latch onto her shoe and trip her if her vigilance slipped.

A low deep growl sounded near her. It was drawn out and seemed to come from all directions. She unconsciously faltered in her steps. A shiver ran up Sarah's spine and she tugged her black hoodie around her, trying to collect the warmth of her own body heat from it. The low-pitched sound replayed in her mind. Her brain trying to identify it.

Her eyes widened and a choked sob escaped her lips when she realized what the sound truly was. A horn. The sonorous rumbling of a horn.

They were gathering. And if the sound had come from near her that meant…

Her heart skipped a beat. She could hear it overworking and the blood pounding in her ears. With a sudden burst of short energy, her long legs flew into a sprint.

Her long brown hair flowed behind her. It was caught on an outreaching branch. She did not falter in her steps. It tore. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes from pain, self-pity, and anger.

Who was chasing her and why couldn't they just leave her alone?

Something began thudding repeatedly on the ground behind her. A spark of terror lanced right through her chest. Hooves. One had found her.

She dared not look back. Instead, she sped through the trees. Hoping her size would benefit her agility-wise.

"Sarah," a voice whispered near her ear.

It was unfamiliar. And terrifying.

She gasped and turned a hard left. Her slim body shrugging through a hole between two hugging trees. Vaguely she noted that the maneuver seemed to work. She left the sounds of hooves behind.

Sarah twisted further through the forest. The tangled trees became thicker and the branches seemed to reach down from the sky as if they were reaching for her. She climbed through, hoping that it was thick enough for her pursuers to retreat.

Soon all she could see where the thick and thin limbs of the trees. They surrounded her. Enveloped her. Tore and yanked at her hair and clothes.

She reached a certain point where the branches had overlapped each other so closely, that it seemed as if they'd fused and become one wall. It would have been a dead end. It would have meant giving up. It would have, if not for a slight sound that her ears picked up.

The sound of rustling. Of struggling. Someone's panting other than her's.

She tore through. Felt the tree tear at her and pull hairs roughly from her scalp. Felt the sharp sting of skin scraping. Sarah let out a cry and used her momentum to yank herself through.

She fell on the other side. Palms digging into the grass.

A sweet moment of victory. A second to rest her aching body. Then she was back up.

Stumbling to her feet, Sarah became aware of her surroundings. A grassy field - a break in the forest. Gnarled trees surrounded it like one large wall. The full moon hung overhead, filling the clearing with pale light.

Sarah hesitantly drew to the center of it. Softly, her running shoes trod on the grass. She was unsure which direction she should head and was rather reluctant to throw herself back into the forest.

A decision, then. Sarah sat in the center of the field. She sunk below the tall slips of grass. Only barely was her pale face exposed. The young woman checked over herself, noting that her workout clothes were a little worse for wear. She'd meant to go out for a short jog…

After a moment of rest, she stood, reluctantly, on her shaky legs. Drawing in a deep breath, Sarah prepared to head back into the forest and try her best to find help.

The hairs on her arms stood up. Terror like she'd never felt flooded her senses. She froze.

A sound behind her. The presence of something was there, and she felt hot breath smother the skin of her neck. She turned…

Sarah was met with the long powerful legs of a black horse. Veins and muscles surged under its skin. Slowly Sarah craned her neck, inspecting with frozen fear the face of her predator.

Gaunt, sharp features of an arrogant face. He inspected her cooly from atop his steed. Sarah took a step back. She knew him. Knew those piercing cold blue eyes. The striking aura this being radiated. Sarah recognized it…

But then, if she knew him, who was chasing her in the forest? Who was the unfamiliar voice?

The presence of four other riders answered her question. They silently rode up, surrounding Sarah and making her aware of her impending sense of doom.

He said not a word to her. And he didn't need to. She knew what this was. They'd herded her, like sheep, to the shepherd. And he was the shepherd.

"No," she said, but her voice was not steady.

"Yes," he hissed. His mouth like venom. Jagged feral teeth exposed in the moonlight.

A gloved hand reaches down towards her - giving her a choice. Her eyes flicker to his. She understands his imploring look, the tilt of his head he gives her, the smirk. _The hard way or the easy way_ , he says.

She tucks both her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

He interprets it as a response, and in some way it is - Sarah later reflects, and his features harden. Still, his gloved hand remains outstretched towards hers.

Sarah takes a deep breath and he watches as her green innocent eyes slide over the rest of the hunt surrounding her and then to the trees that have enclosed them. She looks back to him and then down his arm to the leather fingertips shining in the moonlight. Sarah slowly retracts her hands from her pockets. He takes it as admission and believes he's won.

His smirk widens wickedly.

He doesn't count on her returning smirk.

Before he has time to question it, though, her hand is already in his. Tightening. She yanks. He tries to tear his arm back from her, but then she pulls harder. With force.

He's unbalanced, and as he sways, he watches as her other arm shoots out. Her pale hand holding something. A mist emits from the black device. She waves it in the general direction of his eyes, nose, and mouth. He feels it in the air around him. Inhales sharply in surprise. And then it _burns_.

Sarah watches, wide-eyed, as he cries out in surprise. He tries to tug his hand back from her, no doubt to rub off what's on his face, but she holds strong. She watches victoriously as he loses his balance altogether and topples from the horse.

He falls to the grass and the other riders watch in shock. It had all happened so fast. And had been entirely unexpected from a mortal girl.

They blink and then their king is standing. With a red face pinched in anger, he yells at them.

Tears are streaming down his inflamed face and the riders wonder what he is so distraught over.

"Well, what are you waiting for? After her," he demands.

The riders then realize what has happened.

They look up to see the young girl mounted upon and riding the Goblin King's mount. His bride had gotten away. Escaped.

Her hands are shaky and her thick dark brows are furrowed in concentration. The Goblin King's loyal (up to that point) steed galloped steadily away. Sarah's dark hair lifts from her perfectly straightened back, and it flows behind her and twirls whimsically in the wind. It is now apparent to them that the girl has some experience on the back of a horse.

She casts a quick glance over her shoulder. Then she smiles and the riders can feel the responding waves of anger rolling off of their king. Sarah opens her mouth and yells something back to them.

"Pepper spray, bitches."

They did not know what she spoke of but pulled themselves together at the obvious challenge in her words.

By the time they had brought their horses into a gallop, she had gone through one of the several entrances of the clearing and disappeared into the forest. Leaving four incompetent wild hunt riders and a brideless pepper spray injured King back in the clearing.

The Goblin King was livid.

* * *

 **The End.**

 **(Or is it?)**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own it. Ain't got it. Not mine. Nope.**

 ** _Happy belated Valentine's Day_. Lol...**

 **Wanted to try a somewhat darker story but yet still remain my odd self. I can never seem to part from humor for too long, I think.**

 **Someone gave me pepper spray as a means of self-defense for Christmas. I thought, 'I wonder how different Sarah's life would be if someone had gotten** _ **her**_ **pepper spray?' I mean… Some of the stuff people write on here. Poor Sarah should** _ **really**_ **invest in some pepper spray. And women's self-defense classes.**

 **And Sarah knowing how to ride a horse... I mean, c'mon. She should be able to (I can't, tho). What kind of idealistic dreamer would she be if she hadn't tried to get on a horse's back at least once?**

 **So, yeah. Don't you just love stories where Sarah hands it to the Goblin King?**

 **Alternative Ending (because I know you wanna): Sarah grabs Jareth's hand and rides off with him into the moonlight. Instead of, you know, almost blinding him. Maybe teaches some self-defense classes in the Labyrinth. Much more romantic than leaving behind a pepper-sprayed Goblin King that probably had to seek immediate treatment for his burns. That stuff is nasty.**

 **Anyways, thank you for reading. Please review and fav! It is the only sort of sustaining substance I receive (besides coffee) as a writer.**


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